The Meat Grinder
by Zapwing
Summary: 'The lucky ones died on E-Day' AU fic. contains horrific violence and foul swearing.
1. Prologue

**The Meat Grinder**

**By Zapwing**

**Prologue**

_**February 6**__**th**__** 2016**_

_**4:17 A.M**_

_**Six years after E-Day**_

The woman coughed and woke. Still lying on the cot, her blue eyes swept the small cell until it found the heavy door that barred her in. There were muffled voices coming from the other side. The woman narrowed her eyes as she sat up, the thin blanket sliding off her chest, and onto her lap. Her stern features glared at the steel latch as it unhitched and unlocked. The door swung open, letting in a prodigious amount of light into the room. Not expecting it, the woman raised an arm to protect herself from the blinding light.

"Son of a -!" she hissed, as her eyes grew accustomed to the sudden harshness. The light caught her whitish-blond hair, making it shine slightly. It did nothing to help with the general untidiness, of course. Lowering her hand, she looked through the doorway, and was surprised to see a man standing in it, his hands on a hyenesque's leash. "Come on out", he said. And that was that. He walked over to the next cell, but not before the hyenesque shot her a dirty look. She glared at it as it padded after its master. Sighing, and wondering what this was about, the twenty one year old woman swung her legs off the cot and stood up to stretch. Her ponytail swung, catching the light from the bulbs momentarily, before she turned and headed out the door.

She wore a prison issue set of pants, a dull brownish orange. She didn't bother with a top, and just wore a grey-white unisex undershirt frayed at the edges. She looked around, yawning as she did so. Her bare feet were cold on the metal floor, as she watched other prisoners, men and women, being released from their cells by guards, some with hyenesques in tow, others with fierce basilisks, hissing at any inmate that looked too smart for his or her own good.

The woman raised an eyebrow, as the prisoners were ushered towards the exercise yard. She followed the inmates, her bare feet padding the floor softly, making sure to steer clear of the hyenesques; they had a habit of biting down on bare skin without prior warning. The exercise yard was a wide expanse of grey grass that stretched all the way to the prison walls, topped with barbed wire, which glinted evilly in the pale light of the moon. But the moon's glow barely made it here, especially with all the shit they'd been throwing up into the sky. The inmates assembled in the basketball court, muttering amongst themselves. The woman pushed to the front of the crowd, eliciting a few hard stares. The prisoners then fell silent as a door was thrown open, and Warden Michaels strode out. He wore a clean cut business suit and tie, despite the fact that it was four in the morning. His grey eyes scanned the inmates assembled before him.

He cleared his throat. "Now, I know many of you might be wondering why exactly you have been brought here." He said, his voice carried across the whole exercise yard. The woman stifled a snort. Of course we are wondering, you woke us up in the middle of the night!

The Warden continued. "I have received news from the COG Ministry of Defense. They are short on troops and are in need of new recruits." He sighed. "Hardly surprising considering what we've been through since E-Day."

This made the crowd shift slightly. Everybody knew about E-Day, the day where everything went to hell in twenty four hours…

"What the COG MoD asks is simple. Get recruits from wherever we can, and that includes prisons."

The crowd erupted into a sea of murmurs and surprised exclamations. The woman stood silent, her eyes wide. The Warden raised his hands. "Please, please!" he said "The COG MoD has given you the benefit of choice." The crowd fell silent.

"The first choice is," he said, "Refuse and serve the rest of your sentences, or…," he paused, "Join the COG and receive amnesty at the end of your service."

The crowd was rendered dumbstruck. Amnesty? Full pardon? And just for serving a few years in the military. The woman lowered her head, her still wide eyes staring at the ground. She knew it was suicide, but what the hell, it was amnesty. The COG wouldn't give a fuck about her if she received it and went off clean. This was her chance; her moment to start over somewhere else…

Her hand went up into the air. "Sir", she said, a determined expression on her face, "I'd like to sign on!"

A few others raised their hands as well, followed by twenty more. The reluctant few, who hadn't raised theirs, looked down, shaking their heads.

The Warden seemed satisfied, though. He nodded, and said, "Very well, gentlemen…and women Assignment starts first thing tomorrow. But you must understand that once your decision has been made, there is no turning back. Am I clear?"

There were nods of ascent as the Warden signaled for the guards to ferry the new recruits to the assigning booth. They were taken to a small room, with only a nondescript table and a tired looking man wearing a COG Recruitment Office uniform.

The inmates were arranged in single file, and gave their prisoner numbers and names as they met the man at the desk.

"Your name and I.D?" he asked.

"Stuart Gladwin. Prisoner# 6547689."

The Officer looked at a paper, nodded and stamped them. He waved the man away, and he was led back to his cell.

"Your name and I.D?"

"Yalara Anderson. Prisoner # 4099786."

"Your name and I.D?"

"Hugo Spencer. Prisoner # 4756890."

The Officer was yawning by the time the woman arrived. She looked at him, her face stern and jaw set.

"Your name and I.D?"

"Deryn Sharp. Prisoner # 3248903."

The Officer nodded and stamped her prisoner files. The stamp read "**Recruit"**

Deryn nodded as she was ferried back to her cell. She yawned again, as she adjusted her ponytail. "Goodnight soldier," sneered the guard, a somewhat ugly one, Deryn hadn't taken a liking to.

The door clanged shut and Deryn stared at it, scowling…

"Fuck you too, bum rag"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**February 7****th****, 2016**

**8:23 A.M**

Deryn had been expecting to be transported to the nearest boot camp when she woke up. Just not by a damn _helicopter_. It was oblong, almost rectangular, with two struts ending in rotors on either side of the craft. It had been painted a dull olive green, with the COG symbol spray-painted on the sides in white.

She had been woken by an ice cold bucket of water, courtesy of the sneering guard from last night. "GAH! What the fu-?" The guard just shook his head and turned away. "Get ready, chopper's here" was all he had said. Deryn glared at his retreating back before she got up from her cot and opened up her cupboard for a new prison uniform. After getting dressed as discreetly as she could, she reached under her bed, grabbed the duffel bag, and began piling whatever she would need; her toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, extra clothing, and…

Deryn froze, as she looked at the picture, half hidden in the depths of the cupboard. It was a Polaroid photograph, somewhat yellowed over the years, of a small blonde girl, her arms around the neck of a tall teenage boy. She looked no older than ten, and the boy must have been sixteen. Deryn reached a slender hand and picked up the picture, being careful not to crease the edges. The woman's eyes softened as they ran over the faces of her younger self and her brother giving a piggyback ride to his little sister. The date on the back told her the picture had been taken on 2005. Five years before E-Day…Deryn cursed as her eyes became moist. She shook her head, getting her bearings, before she stuffed the Polaroid into a small zipper. The duffel bag was secured, and Deryn sighed, taking a good look around the cell, which had been her home for seven years. She had not bothered decorating it; it was a jail cell, after all. But now that she was going away for good, she couldn't help but feel an indescribable sense of loss.

And she now stood on the exercise yard, the wind whipped by the helicopter's turbines, sending her ponytail fluttering in every direction. Deryn sighed, took one last look at the prison, before adjusting the bag on her shoulders. She heard a snuffling, and something wet touched her fingers. She started, looked down, and found the same hyenesque from last night. It stood no taller than her elbow, its grey speckled fur blowing in the wind. It looked up at her, and for once, its face didn't have an angry, dirty look. In fact it almost seemed apologetic. Deryn smiled grimly, as she ruffled the hyenesque's ears. "I'll miss you too, beastie", she said, softly. The hyenesque's eyes brightened and it nuzzled Deryn's hand.

A whistle sounded, and the hyenesque turned. It gave one last look at Deryn, before it bounded off. Deryn bit her lip as she faced the helicopter again. It was nearly full, and only ten more recruits were left on the yard. She sucked in a breath, put on her most determined expression, and strode forward. She had to admit, these Clankers were clever-boots with all this metal. There were seats bolted on the sides of the cabin, facing each other, supplied by straps to hold the occupants safely. Almost all of them were full, save for a few. Deryn stowed her bag underneath the nearest one, and buckled herself in. Seconds later the chopper was full. It rose up, its rotors thudding, the landing gear whirring back into place. With a lurch, the chopper had liftoff, and Deryn saw the ground rushing away from outside a small porthole.

Deryn sighed and rested her head against the metal wall. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, wondering what boot camp would be like.

* * *

><p>The man was sent crashing into the dirty gravel, and Deryn winced. The drill sergeant, a thick heavy man, grunted and said, "Next!" The next recruit, a thin, shaking youngster came forward towards the large barrel chested soldier. The drill sergeant stood beside them both, a little away from the two. Before the thin man could react, the soldier grabbed him by the sides of his head, and smashed it against his knee. The man cried out, and fell to the ground, clutching his broken nose. Blood spattered to the ground with wet splashes. Deryn and the rest of the recruits gave a sympathetic ", Oooooohhhh!"<p>

The sergeant shook his head unhappily. "Mongrels", he grunted. "Mongrels, the lot of you." Deryn tried not to meet his gaze as he strode past the line of people. All of them were in New Folsom Boot Camp's training yard. All around them were soldiers of every shape and size, carrying out their own training, on grueling obstacle courses and firing ranges. The cloudy grey sky didn't help with the mood either. The chopper that had brought them in, stood a little ways off, on its pad, like some sort of hideous bird of prey.

"By the time I'm done with you, I expect you pigs to be the models of obedience I'm supposed to make you fuckers turn into!" he yelled; he seemed to like doing that. There was a chortling sound and Deryn started slightly as the sergeant's arm whipped forward, missing her face by inches, and grabbing the man beside her by the scruff of his neck. "Is there something to laugh at recruit?" he spat. The man, suddenly overcome by fear, stammered "No, sir, I was just-"

"THEN WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU TWISTING YOUR SKIRTS FOR, YOU HAPPY ASS!"

When the man failed to affect a reply, the sergeant snarled, grabbed the man's arm, and twisted it. Within seconds there was a sickening crack, and the unfortunate man was on the ground shrieking. "Medic!" barked the sergeant, as if it was perfectly all right to up and break a recruits arm on his first day at boot camp. Two soldiers with white bands on their shirt sleeves helped the still sobbing man and led him into the medical tent. Deryn watched them go, not sure whether to feel angry at the sergeant or feel sorry for the poor man with a broken arm.

"Your training and evaluation begins now," said the sergeant, "If you are entertaining any thoughts of rest and lunch, then you can kiss their asses goodbye! Am I understood!" Some of the recruit's eyes widened; others looked resigned. The sergeant snarled and said, "Am I understood!"

The group murmured a feeble 'yes sir'. The sergeant swore, "Fuck that! When I expect an answer, the first and last words, which comes out of your motherfucking mouths, is 'sir'!"

The group now responded with a chorus of, "Sir, yes, sir!"

The sergeant put his palms behind his back. "Now that I've drilled that little fact into your brains, I deem it right to begin your training!"

And with that, the burly soldier, who stood beside the sergeant only moments before, lunged forwards, grabbed Deryn by the shoulders, and slammed her against the concrete wall.

"The first rule," said the sergeant, as Deryn blinked stars from her eyes, "Is that your enemy will not hesitate to make his move!" And with that, the soldier raised a meaty fist and brought it forwards. It collided with Deryn's' stomach, knocking the air out of her, and raising bile to her throat.

"You're supposed to fight back, you skank ass bitch!" shrieked the sergeant. Deryn grunted as she grabbed the soldier's arm, in a vain attempt to wrench it off her, but the soldier slammed another fist into her stomach. "Fuck…," she snarled as she tried to clear her head.

And so it continued. After Deryn was almost literally finished, it was the rest of the group's turn. When that was over, the obstacle courses came next. Then it was back to being slammed against the wall by the meaty soldier and being pummeled again. According to the sergeant, they were to become so used to physical pain, that they would develop what he called a 'pain tolerance'. But Deryn wondered if she would be able to tolerate this…

After a few more ungodly regimens, it was ten in the evening; which was saying something, since she had arrived in the morning, and Deryn hadn't eaten a bite. But she didn't care anymore. Her bones ached, her muscles ached and her head ached. She didn't even pay attention when she and the others were led to their sleeping quarters. Deryn didn't even bother to change; she just removed her prison shirt, and fell asleep, with her vest and pants on, her body, slick with sweat hitting the bed.

After a second she was asleep.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**February 8****th****, 2016 **

**7:15 A.M**

"Hey," said a gentle voice, "Hey, wake up…"

Deryn groaned and opened her eyes. The pain from yesterday's brutal training hit her like a sledgehammer, and her muscles screamed from the cruel regimen. Her vision swam for a minute, before focusing on the tanned, dark haired woman standing over her. Her hair reached just below her shoulder blades, and two locks were tied in braids that fell to her midriff. Deryn blinked up at her, and the woman smiled. "You sleep like a rock, you know that? It's been five minutes since the wake-up bell rang." Deryn blinked again, rubbed her eyes and yawned. "What-what time is it?" she slurred. The woman picked up a bag from the floor. "Time for breakfast," she said, "Here, put this on." Deryn rubbed her head and sighed. "Had to drag me up from my bed at…"

"Actually," said the woman, "You flopped down on _my_ bed"

Deryn stared up at her, mouth open. "Oh…err…I'm sorry if…"

The woman shrugged. "No big deal," she said "I just slept on yours." Deryn raised an eyebrow, and looked towards where the woman pointed. Sure enough, next to the woman's cot, there was another cot with a nameplate at the foot stating it was Deryn's. Deryn groaned, and shook her head. The woman took no notice. "Come on, get your clothes on. Or we'll miss the good spots." Deryn gave an affirmative grunt, and headed to the bathrooms. The recruits in her sleeping block were all in the process of waking up from their fitful sleep. Some lay in their beds with looks of dismay on their faces, and others simply stood and yawned, stretched, or a combination of both.

Deryn turned into the nearest shower stall and locked the door. She set the bag down on the floor, and unzipped it carefully. Deryn looked inside and whistled. Inside was a COG Gear's regulation combat armor. It was a grey, bulky metal vest, with the COG symbol slapped onto the front, and large shoulder pads. Underneath that she would wear a black long sleeveless shirt. Her arms would be bare, save for extremely tough metal plating. Her legs would be protected by pants of the same color as the shirt, along with thigh armor and heavy metal combat boots.

She emerged from her makeshift changing room, walking towards the woman, who was leaning on her cot, twiddling her thumbs. She looked towards Deryn as she came closer, and smiled. "Looks good", she said, "You know, I think they designed this stuff so it looks good on _anyone_." Deryn smiled, "So they join because of the smart uniform?"

The woman laughed, "Yeah, I think so! C'mon; breakfast. Maybe we'll be first in line!"

"As long as it's not Nutria-Algae, I hate that crap."

"Sorry, but that's all they make here…"

"Shit!"

"You get used to it," said the woman as she held the door open for Deryn, "I'm Lilit, by the way."

* * *

><p>Deryn stood behind the soldier, grimacing as a large dollop of pale yellow algae splattered onto his tray. "Barking <em>fucking<em> spiders," she swore. "Just cool down," said Lilit "It's all everyone eats nowadays." Lilit stood behind Deryn, her tray tucked under her arm. She held a book in her free hand (_Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea_), and appeared absolutely unconcerned by the foul smelling algae. "Speak for yourself," grumbled Deryn, "I thought I was free of this stuff when I signed on." Lilit just smiled wryly. "I mean, come on," said Deryn, "They want strong soldiers right? Why can't they give us some proper, barking food?"

"Complaining won't help…"

"Shut up…"

Deryn scowled as she pulled the dispenser's lever, and a particularly large wad of slime plopped on her tray. She picked up a spoon and stabbed it on her way to the table, making sure it felt the full brunt of her anger. "Just eat it," said Lilit, sitting down next to her, "You might even like it."

"They gave me seven years for that. And what good did that do?" Deryn held up a spoon of the stuff and watched it fall back onto the tray. She grimaced again and swore. She lifted another spoon of the shit and was about to take a shaky bite when…

"Excuse me, have you seen this girl?"

"No."

"Hey, I hate to bother you but-

"Can't help you"

"Look, I don't want to bother you or anything, but this girl in this picture? Have you seen her anywhere?"

"Sorry man, no clue."

Deryn raised an eyebrow, and swiveled her head around. She noticed a young man, walking between the tables of recent recruits. He held a small photograph, and he carried it with him, as if he was afraid he would lose it any minute. He had young, boyish features, dark hair, and he wore a field medic's uniform. He looked to be around twenty three.

"Excuse me, but-

"Look man, I haven't seen that girl, alright? None of us have. Now go away!"

The man stopped short, sighed, and walked off, head bowed in a forlorn sort of way. Lilit shook her head as he came by. "No luck today, either, huh?" The man looked at Lilit and shook his head despondently. "No," he said, "Absolutely nothing…" Lilit sighed, "You'll find her, okay?"

"Am I missing something?" asked Deryn, uncomfortably. Lilit smiled. She gestured to the man. "Newkirk, meet Deryn. Deryn, meet Newkirk."

The man frowned as he took in Deryn's appearance. "Hi," he said glumly. Deryn nodded. Then, suddenly, Newkirk's face lit up. "Hey, you're one of those new guys right?" Deryn was surprised at the question, and before she could answer, Newkirk had thrust the photo in her face.

"Is there any chance, _any _chance at all, that you've seen this girl?" he asked, his eyes desperate.

Deryn stared at the picture. It was a snapshot of a striking young girl, smiling and waving at the camera. It looked like it had been taken a long time ago.

Deryn gulped. This reminded her of…

* * *

><p><em>Broken glass, gunfire, shouts, blood. Someone's screaming…<em>

* * *

><p>Deryn blinked and stared hard at the man, trying to form words. He was itching for an answer, she could see that. Deryn desperately wanted to help him, she really did, but-<p>

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head, "I don't remember anyone like that…"

Newkirk's face fell. "Oh…," he said, "Well…thanks anyway…" He slouched off, his eyes on the picture. Lilit bit her lip. "Poor guy," she said softly, "If I were him, I would've given up a long time ago…"

"Who was that girl in the picture?"

"His sister," said Lilit, "It's kind of a sad story actually…"

"Go on…"

"Well, sometime after E-Day, Newkirk had signed on for field medicine at the nearest COG booth. His sister, Maria, that's her name, stayed at home, you know, looked after the place. She wanted to, you see. But she hadn't liked the idea of Newkirk being a field medic."

"She didn't?"

"Nope, and I don't blame her; they both lost their parents on E-Day. Anyway, they made a living. Newkirk finished his medical studies, and was about to head for boot camp, when Maria just disappeared."

"She was gone?"

"Poof. Gone. No note, nothing. He's been looking for her ever since."

Deryn took a look at Newkirk, who was sitting at a table, poking at his algae, lost in thought. His story had sounded so close to hers…

It reminded her of…

Don't go there, thought Deryn as she shook her head and took a bite of algae, ignoring the foul taste.

Don't _fucking _go there…


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

**February 8****th,**** 2016**

**10: 30 A.M**

After breakfast, the new soldiers ferried into a small metal building, though it was more like a tent made out of sheet metal. It had just enough space for about fifty people, and chairs had been placed in neat rows, in front of a large screen. Deryn took a seat with a few other recruits near the center of the arrangement. The room was already getting crowded with soldiers, and Deryn felt fortunate that she'd found a seat at all. The door closed with a clapping sound and the lights dimmed. "What you are about to see," said a man in a Captain's uniform, as thou he was talking about the weather, "Are eyewitness accounts of eyewitness accounts of E-Day, as seen by those who survived; to tell the tale at least. "There was a murmur in the room. Deryn sat straighter. "I know many of you may already know exactly what happened on this tragic date." said the Captain, "But under orders from the COG, this video has been made mandatory viewing for all military personnel."

The screen behind the Captain clicked on, and a countdown began. "So sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."

Only if you have popcorn, thought Deryn, drily.

But, the movie began, and Deryn became engrossed.

The film began with the usual history lesson. All of Sera was on tenterhooks; Darwinists and Clankers had been near total war. Both factions, clawed at the remaining natural resources, stockpiled weapons, built and designed new ones, in an effort to intimidate the other. Finally, on the summer of 1994, a Clanker ICBM struck Pechanga, and war had been declared. The great powers clashed together, for five years, until, when both sides were spent, and the death toll had become so high, that an agreement was reached. Promising never to fight each other again, the two factions united to form the Coalition of Ordered Governments, better known as the COG. This organization redrew international borders, rebuilt any damaged or destroyed cities, and pretty much set things back to normal.

This pact went on till the early 2010s, until the ground split in several key cities, not only Tyros, but at every major metropolis of the southern hemisphere of Sera…

In the city of Quinn, stunned onlookers witnessed a monstrous creature claw its way out of the tarmac. The video was in surprisingly clear quality, and those assembled had a good view of its many, barbed legs and its gnashing mouth. The creature heaved itself out of the hole it had created for itself, revealing the figure riding atop it, enclosed in an impact proof cockpit. Similar monsters appeared all over the world, and seconds after that, armed troops scurried upwards and began to slaughter everyone in sight. Within two hours, hospitals all over Sera were swamped with the horrifically wounded. Some survived, but the unlucky ones died in bed or perished on reaching their wards. With more and more cases arriving by the minute, and doctor's offices being cleared to make space for wounded, hospitals had no choice but to turn away more wounded. The desperate tried to see to their loved ones themselves only to fail miserably. Calls to law enforcement were useless as the lines were flooded with similar cries for help. Five hours later, the global communications network, and the internet collapsed completely leaving many communities in the southern hemisphere stranded and at the mercy of the ferocious creatures.

An emergency network managed to send a broadcast instructing civilians to grab whatever they could and flee to the nearest shelter, but it had been too late; the savage monsters cut most of them off and butchered them, making no discrimination between man, woman or child. One hour later, billions were reported dead, and thousands more were declared missing. Those who escaped made it to refugee camps and townships on the other side of the equator, where they still live today.

This brutal massacre carried on for the whole of those hellish twenty four hours, until the COG, using newly developed smart-barriers, constructed security walls, which over a period of years, became the Blockade, an impenetrable wall of solid metal, that stretched across the equator of Sera, protecting those in the Northern hemisphere.

Closer examination of the enemy provided astonishing results. They weren't really creatures, but some sort of human fabrication, mixed with Clanker cybernetics. Most sported tentacles, claws, extra limbs, and weapons and cutting blades sewn directly into their muscles. They had their own fabs, and their own Clankers; God knows where they got it all from. And they killed indiscriminately, literally eating up settlements as they went like a large moving mouth, earning them the title of Locust.

This was no battle hardened nation the COG was fighting, this was a war machine bent on destroying humanity for reasons unknown. Negotiation had ended in violence; despite being part human, they refused to see reason, and it was rumored that they 'farmed' people and ate them alive.

The aftermath of E-Day rendered great environmental damage; firestorms raged across the southern hemisphere, causing kilometers of damage, and Sera's atmosphere had become filthy for a few weeks, but turned into the dull grey everyone saw now. Damaged power plants leaked their polluting compounds into the air and soil, contaminating them for decades to come.

Deryn shivered. The other soldiers in the room looked uncomfortable as well. E-Day was not a light topic. People had been killed, loved ones lost…

There was a popular saying; "The Lucky ones died on E-Day."

Deryn felt her eyes itch. She reached up to rub them, and found her eyes edged with tears. She shook her head as the lights came back on and the video ended. The Captain was speaking again, but Deryn wasn't listening…

* * *

><p>Deryn lay awake in bed, her eyes staring out the window. She could make out the watchtowers, but that was it; nights were usually very dark nowadays. She lay on her side, the sheets just reaching her waist. She had taken off her shirt and lay in bed wearing her usual vest; she was very used to it now, I didn't feel normal without sleeping like this. It was now lights out. The recruits slept on, snoring, and dead to the world. Except for Deryn; she was wide awake…<p>

Watching that video on E-Day had shaken her. She was constantly reminded of the photo in her duffel bag, and the barking of a gun and…

"You awake too?" asked a small voice. Deryn started and craned her neck backwards. She saw Lilit's eyes glinting from her bed. Deryn sighed. "Yeah" she said softly. "You want to talk about it?" asked Lilit, "Everyone has something on their minds."

Deryn hesitated, but decided she need it off her chest, and then said, "It's just my brother."

"What about him? Is he on duty?"

"No…he's dead…"

"…oh…sorry."

"Don't be."

There was a pregnant pause as the women lay in bed, staring into space. Deryn rolled over till she faced the ceiling, like Lilit. "He was a nice lad; you would have liked him. He took care of me after Ma and Da died on E-Day."The silence pressed on, until Lilit said, "It must've been pretty tough, yeah?"

Deryn nodded. "He was just what a big brother was supposed to be. He kept me safe, until…" Deryn bit her lip, and then continued, "We lived in one of those refugee camps. Food was not much to go around, so Jaspert had to make do with what we got. But that day was different though…"Deryn stopped again, and found herself blinking back tears.

Lilit coughed. "I you're not so cool about this…"

"No, no, it's okay," said Deryn hastily, shaking her head, "It's just…never mind…anyway, there was a riot, a shooting spree, I don't know who started it, but it didn't change anything."

* * *

><p><em>A little Deryn was on the ground crying, Jaspert shielding her. People were running, throwing things, glass bottles, homemade grenades, stones. They were swearing all 'The Bad Words' along with a few she hadn't learnt yet. At least she was alive… <em>

_But Jaspert had taken the shotgun shell to the chest… His blood soaked her hair, and dripped to the ground. She clutched his jacket and screamed…_

* * *

><p>"I was moved into this nursing home," said Deryn, "But then I got older, and went berserk."Lilit wasn't speaking. But she looked at Deryn intently. "Berserk in what way?"<p>

"I suddenly didn't care anymore, so I did it all. Mugging, robbery, drug dealing, you name it…"

"You did drugs?"

Deryn scowled, "No, ninny, I only sold them. Anyway, that's how I ended up in jail…"

Lilit nodded. "It's the Locust. It all comes down to them" she said softly "everyone who lost someone close to them; it's all because of them, they did it."

Deryn sighed, "Yeah I guess so. Anyway, prison fixed me up. I was halfway with my sentence, when I enlisted; I wanted to start over, know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I do; and when this is all over, everyone can start rebuilding again."

Deryn smiled, "Optimistic aren't you?"

Lilit laughed softly, "It's the army, what do you expect?"


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

**February 9****th****, 2016**

**14:32 A.M**

"Lilit, what the hell is taking you so long?" snarled Deryn as she thumped her fist against the bathroom door.

"Just hold on a second!" said Lilit's muffled voice. She had been spending more than twenty minutes in the bathroom, and Deryn was getting fed up. If they didn't make it to the training field in time, they were _screwed_. And Deryn knew what it felt like to be screwed.

"It's not my fault my data bead is covered soap!" exclaimed an irate Lilit. Deryn shuddered. All Clankers received small implants called data beads at the age of sixteen. It allowed them to interface with computerized systems, which used their nervous system as a central processing unit. It sounded fashionable to the Clankers all right, but Deryn just found it bloody disgusting, having a piece of metal bolted to the back of your neck. It just felt wrong…

She was just about to knock on the door again, just to annoy Lilit, when it unlocked and slid open, revealing a smiling Lilit.

"All done!"

* * *

><p>Deryn cursed profusely as she sweated in the afternoon heat. She, Lilit, Newkirk, and several other recruits stood in a straight line. In front of them, pacing like some wild animal, the drill sergeant, whose name turned out to be Francis, was yelling at the top of his voice as usual. The sky was a bit brighter today, and maybe it had something to do with the heat as well. It pooled in their body armor, and made them perspire like pigs. "As part of your vehicle training," yelled Francis, "You will be required to learn to pilot armored mechanized units in the field of combat."<p>

Deryn shuddered. The thought of driving gave her shivers. There had always been creatures to pull everything around, but after E-Day, things changed. Now, soldiers were expected to master both beasts and machines. Deryn just found it annoyingly frustrating.

"Since this is your first day of training with machines, we'll just start with some basic runners and then..." Lilit raised her hand, "Sir, why don't we just start with real machines, sir?" Deryn rolled her eyes. Lilit made no secret of her motorheadedness. She often flipped through walker magazines, and read the mechanical sections of _Scientific weekly. _"Dad worked in a garage before E-Day," she explained, during breakfast, "We lived in this apartment right above it, and Dad brought engine parts up to his room all the time. He'd take them apart, clean them, and put them together again, and I'd sit there watching."

Lilit stared at Francis with a frown on her face; she had been looking forward to using real combat walkers instead of training runners. Francis scoffed, "Look behind you…"

Lilit looked over her shoulder, and Deryn did the same.

Behind them, being tended to by a repair team, was a large walker, two legs, a giant head, studded with optics and sensors, two Gatling chain guns, and a protruding cannon. Its clawed feet gripped the ground, and it seemed to be staring at them hungrily. The machine exuded a sense of menace and brutality. The feet were scuffed and stained with a suspicious-looking reddish color, and parts of the armor were blackened and scratched by enemy fire.

Lilit swore.

"That Cyclops Mecha over there, has over 2,000 moving parts, weighs over a hundred tons, contains explosive ammunition and can only be driven by licensed pilots. Even if you happen to read every walker magazine you get your filthy hands on, I can guarantee, you will fail to pilot this vehicle and probably kill half the population of this boot camp in the process. This machine is nothing like a sports walker on a magazine."

Lilt licked her lips and swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Got it? Good. Now, who'll pilot first?"

Francis clasped his palms together, inspecting the line of soldiers. His steely eyes raked across their faces. They stood silent, looking around nervously, throwing occasional glances at the Mecha behind them. Deryn doubted anyone would be piloting today, especially with that intimidating machine behind them.

"No one?" asked Francis, his eyes taking them all in one more time.

"I'll do it," said a voice at the other end of the line. Deryn's eyes, as well as Lilit's, swiveled towards the young man who had raised a lean arm. He looked somewhere between twenty two and twenty three. His elongated features were light and his cheeks and chin were covered by sparse stubble; he obviously didn't care much about his shaving. It was his accent that caught their attention; it sounded like…

"You're from Kashkur, aren't you?" asked Francis, as he looked at the man up and down. He didn't look very convinced about this one.

"Born and raised, sir."

"Well, why don't you come up here and stand right beside me, then?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Any other willing ladies or gentlemen who'd like to come forward?" Deryn heard Lilit swear again. "Fuck that, I don't care what he says, I'm going too…"

Newkirk, who had been to the right of Deryn, looked at Lilit with wide eyes. "Are you crazy? You'll be torn to pieces!"

"Shut up, Kirk"

"It's _Newkirk_, thank you very much, and I don't think it takes an idiot to know how this whole thing is suicide!"

But Lilit wasn't listening; she'd already stepped forward, and joined the Kashkur man. Francis didn't seem satisfied, however; it was a three-man exercise they were doing. He searched for any more volunteers, but Deryn knew he wouldn't be getting any. On another note, the heat seemed to have intensified further, making rivulets of sweat run down Deryn's neck. She cursed inwardly, as she looked up at the sky, hating the fact that this training exercise was out in a burning furnace.

"Ah, yes, Sharp! Come forward, please."

Deryn came crashing back to Sera, as her head whipped down, eyes wide. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes, that's right, you; the blonde with the pony tail. Come over here."

Deryn looked around, noticing she was alone. The other soldiers, while Francis had scanned them, had taken a cautious step back, leaving Deryn standing out in the open. It was like one of those cartoons, where the mad scientist tried to choose a test subject, and end up with the guy who wasn't paying attention. And this was one fucked up cartoon, all right…

"Just go," whispered Newkirk, from somewhere behind her.

"Thanks for the support, bastard," hissed Deryn as she walked towards Francis and the others. Newkirk cleared his throat sheepishly. Francis was sizing the three of them up. Deryn saw how he looked at their faces, as if he was evaluating them, one by one. She didn't like it.

"The rest of you," he said to the other recruits, "Clear off. Now!"

They were only too happy to oblige; they left faster than they ought to have, although Newkirk slowed down, and gave an apologetic look to Deryn.

Lilit seemed thrilled to have Deryn onboard; she nudged her shoulder encouragingly, but Deryn just scowled. It didn't discourage Lilit, though. The man from Kashkur interested Deryn the most. He ignored the other two, and looked straight ahead, as if he was trying to remember something. Suddenly, his eyes flicked to Deryn's face, and she started, realizing she had been staring.

"What?" he asked, with a quizzical expression.

"N-nothing…"

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't question the matter further, something Deryn was glad for. The man turned away, as if nothing had happened, and just as he did so, Deryn caught a glimpse of his dog tags. They were stamped with his serial number, and his name, _Aleksandar Ferdinand. I.D # 30560089_.

He's a Clanker, thought Deryn, no wonder he was so jumpy about piloting in the first place. Then she thought; Lilit could be his psycho girlfriend or something, and she smiled softly. Her eyes flicked to the nape of his neck, and the data bead glinted in the sunlight, a round sphere with a tiny plug point inset, fused seamlessly to the skin. Deryn felt her skin crawl.

Francis pulled out a remote the size of a matchbox, pressed the button, and watched the garage doors open. Deryn tensed as the steel grey shutters clattered upwards. For all she knew, there could be a frontline battle mecha in there…

But it wasn't anything of the sort.

Crouched on the floor of the garage were small, two legged, industrial loading machines. Deryn raised an eyebrow. Their legs were clunky and thick, designed for short distances. They carried no weapons, and their bodies were, simply put, an engine, a seat, support joints, and a large roll cage hinged at the top of the runner, to protect the driver. Where the loading arms would have been, where two hollow sockets.

"We're piloting these?" groaned Lilit. "These things aren't walkers, they're forklifts!"

As if to illustrate this point, a single panel fell of Runner Two and hit the floor with clang.

Deryn shrugged and headed for Runner Three, when she accidentally bumped into Aleksandar. He looked at her, somewhat affronted. "Watch it!"

Deryn, flustered, said, "Sorry."

Aleksandar rolled his eyes, "Whatever, just don't get in my way, all right?"

Deryn narrowed her eyes, as he walked over to Runner Three. Don't get in his way? Shouldn't it be the other way around?

* * *

><p>Piloting a loading machine was easier than Deryn thought. The saunters were just simple levers, and all you had to do was pull them in the right direction to move, according to Francis. Of course the more complex machines would be trickier, of course.<p>

"We'll start with a basic walking and running exercise," said Francis, in his own runner, a beat up old cargo hauler. "Your goal is to move from one end of the field to the other. Am I clear?" There were 'Yes sir's' from all three of them, as they listened intently. "The first exercise will be simple walking; to get you on your bearings, even if some of you already know how to pilot walkers."

Deryn was starting to get more confident. So far, so good…

"All right, let's begin. I' going to time you."

Deryn grinned, grabbed the saunters, and pushed them forward; the runner responded in kind, and took a few steps, their weight crunching the gravel. She thought of going full throttle, when Aleksandar's runner grazed against hers, with a screech of metal as it walked forwards past Deryn.

"Hey!" exclaimed Deryn.

Aleksandar, who had noticed, cursed. "I told you to stay out of my way!"

"Stay out of your way? What about mine?"

Aleksandar huffed, turned the runner and clomped off. Deryn gritted her teeth and kept on making her way to the finish line. It was only when they were halfway, did Deryn lose control, for a minute and her runner stumbled and crashed into Aleksandar's. The impact shook the whole machine, and Deryn felt her teeth shudder and rattle.

She heard Aleksandar utter an oath, before he twisted around and glared at Deryn.

"What in God's name is wrong with you!"

"I just tripped or something!" exclaimed Deryn, as she stabilized her runner. Aleksandar scowled. "You're a Darwinist, aren't you?"

Deryn stared at Aleksandar, puzzled. "Well…"

"Figures," snorted Aleksandar, "Put a Darwinist in a machine and they screw up, just trying to get basic piloting right."

Deryn lost her temper. She slammed the saunters down, and her runner darted forward and rammed straight into Aleksandar's with a loud screech of metal. The man yelled, "Fuck!" before he stabilized, snarled, and charged in turn. The next impact sent Deryn's runner stumbling back ungainly.

Deryn yelled, and charged, but this time, she sidestepped Aleksandar, and battered him from the side. Aleksandar yelled as his runner stumbled sideways and Deryn was about to declare victory, when their metal legs snagged together at the ankles, causing the both of them to hit the ground with a furious thud.

Francis was not happy with the developments. He blew a sharp note on his whistle, just as they two runners stood up and looked ready to finish each other off. "Just what the flying fuck is going on here?" he shouted, as his runner drew level with theirs.

"He started it!" said Deryn.

"She started it!" said Aleksandar.

"No, you did!"

"I think it was pretty obvious it was you!"

"_Fuck_ you!"

"QUIET!"

Deryn and Aleksandar shut up like schoolchildren being punished as Francis yelled. He was furious; his face had gone red, and his eyes looked manic.

"COOKHOUSE DUTY! BOTH OF YOU!"


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

**February 10****th****, 2016 **

**10:35 A.M**

**Undisclosed Location**

He had been travelling for days now, his followers barely kept in check, had it not been for his strong hand and strict instruction. But he was not fatigued; to tire was to be weak. He had pressed on, stopping only to feed the ragtag group that stayed by his side, or to check his progress. This would be the final defining moment; he would issue the order in a few more minutes' time, and soon he would be the one to open the gates for the Final Cleansing. He checked his chronometer, and grunted. He looked up and surveyed those he had brought along.

There were about ten of them in total, grumbling and quarrelling with each other. He knew they would only go back to working together when the time would come, and that time would come soon in just five more minutes. They were extremely efficient at what they did, which was why he had chosen them to come along. He sat with his back against a wall. He had been sitting there for hours now, waiting for the right time. He had not entrusted this to anyone else, simply because it was too delicate. In his opinion, if you wanted something done right, it is your obligation to do it yourself, and that is exactly what he would do with any subtle assignment.

He checked his chronometer one more time, and stood. It was time. He let out a shrill note, and his brethren stopped what they were doing with considerable reluctance.

He reached up and twisted the metal plating that covered their underground hiding place. After three turns, it came loose, and he scampered upwards first to survey his surroundings. Behind him, several kilometers away, loomed the huge monstrosity that was the Blockade, a giant impenetrable wall of metal. On either side was dry scrubland and dirt. And right in front was a small farm; a very basic looking edifice, made of metal alloys. There was a stable, though it seemed empty, and a farming machine stood to one side, its legs splayed out. The lights were still on inside; whoever they were, they clearly thought it would be safe to stay near the Blockade.

Tonight, he would prove their fatal mistake… and besides, that farm looked innocent enough for what he had planned; it would be perfect.

He let out another note, and his band scrabbled up from the hole, inspecting their surroundings with interest. He snapped his fingers, and he had their attention again. They looked at him expectantly, their bodies tensed with excitement.

He gazed towards the farm one last time, before he raised his fingers again, and made a hand sign. He brought it down swiftly, and pointed his finger right at the farm. The leader of the band raised his heckles and growled. With a rattle he bounded forwards, and the rest followed with equal vigor.

The signal had been clear; attack.

* * *

><p>Graham's father had set up his farm three years after E-Day, when he had been looking for a place to settle down. This plot of land was quiet, out of the way, and it was still close enough to the town in case they needed help. It had been a good decision on his father's part; and his mother was also at ease. He remembered the first few years; they had been wandering from settlement to settlement, barely able to make a living. It had been especially difficult for his mother, who had been afraid that her husband would be conscripted into the barracks. But they had been lucky; Graham's father had not been enlisted, and they had found their new home in that same year. They were safe, secure, had a place to stay and the Locust were banished to their occasional nightmares.<p>

Graham was six years old.

He sat in his favorite chair in the corner, reading an adventure story his mother had gotten hold of some time ago. Sometimes, Graham would wish that he was one of the brave heroes in these stories, recovering sacred artifacts, and swinging from chandeliers… His father sat on an armchair near the heater, examining piece of machinery from the wireless radio that sat on the low table, mumbling under his breath occasionally. His mother was seated on the sofa, slipping channels on the battered television set.

It was a nice quiet atmosphere, the sort Graham liked. It was so peaceful, and comfortable, and…

Graham's father looked up and frowned. His mother, looking away from the television, heard it too; a high-pitched noise. Graham looked up from his book, confusion all over his face. His father smiled reassuringly, and stood up, crossed over to the window, and peeked out. He looked left and right, into the dark night.

He shook his head, and said, "I don't see any-"

_SLAM!_

Graham gave a cry, and he heard his mother scream. Graham's father drew back from the window sharply. There was a sort of face outside, pressed against the glass, illuminated by the lights in their living room. It looked contorted, and twisted, and reminded Graham of -

He couldn't get a clear view of it. His father immediately grabbed a shotgun of the mantelpiece, and drew the curtains. "Lily!" he yelled, "Get Graham in the basement now!"

The six year old gave a yell of fright as his mother, sobbing grabbed her son about the waist, pushed aside the long coffee table, and threw open the trap door underneath the hearthrug. "Whatever you do," said his mother, her voice quivering, "Whatever you hear, don't make any noise…"

Graham nodded, tears pricking at his eyes, as his mother gently ushered him down the basement. He hadn't seen his parents throw up such a ruckus before, and it was scaring him just as much as the scittering noises coming from the roof...

There was a sudden noise of breaking glass, his mother looked behind her, screamed, and the trapdoor was closed, leaving the young boy in semi darkness. Some of the living room's light filtered between the grill, and so did sound…

_BLAM!_

A gunshot…then the sound of something man sized moving, along with an audible scritch-scratch.

"Lily, get behind me!"

_SSSSHHHRRRRAAAAEEK!_

Graham screwed his eyes shut, and bit his lips, as he huddled against a wall, shivering. He was suddenly very frightened of that noise; a throaty screech of some horrible animal.

More breaking glass…

_GRUNCH!_

Some furniture breaking…

_BLAM!_

_SSSSSHHHRRRRAAAAEEEEEEK!_

"Get away from her!"

"Oh, my God, the other window!"

"Mother of…"

CRASH!

_HHHRRRREEEEAAAAAK!_

"_AAAAAAARRRGH!"_

Graham's eyes flew open; it was his father screaming. He bit down on his hand, enough to turn it red; he'd promised not to make any noise…

"Eddy! Eddy, get up! Oh my God!"

Running footsteps, something that sounded like a section of roof falling in, and then…

_GRRRROOOOOAAAAAWWWWRRRRR!_

"No! NO, NO! AAAAG-

His mother's scream cut off abruptly, and suddenly she fell across the grille, shaking it. Graham's tears were flowing freely now at the sight of the cruel red gash on his mother's back, exposing what looked like a spine. It dripped blood, and it spattered through the grille, making a red pattern on the basement floor.

Graham was biting down on his hand so hard, he thought it would come clean off, but he persisted, even when his mother's body was sharply dragged away, and the new noises commenced… noises which an adult would say sounded of tearing meat, hacking flesh, and snapping bone, and the feral snarls, grunts and chitters, all followed by the metallic stench of blood.

Graham squeezed his eyes shut, and began to pray.

* * *

><p>He had finished polishing his weapon by the time they were done with the farm, and the pack leader alighted on the roof and gave a screech of victory. He stood, pocketed his weapon, and strode over to the farm, hands in his pockets. He stopped at the door, opened it, and stayed, surveying the scene. Four of his brethren were feeding on a corpse that had been dragged across the blood spattered living room. Another three were snaffling at another body, a shattered shotgun clenched tightly in its fingers. The leader had dropped down, and joined two others who were raiding the kitchen.<p>

He nodded, satisfied at the work done. The pack would get extra meals tomorrow…

Wait…

He looked to the corner, and there, lying at the foot of a chair, was a brightly colored book. He plucked it form the ground, and read the title; _Adventure Stories for Boys._

He raised an eyebrow; there was a third in the house, but where?

He scrutinized the carnage, the walls splattered with red, and gore encrusted floor, until his keen eyes fell upon the coffee table. Careful examination of the floor, revealed scuff marks in the grille, and as he followed them, he found the hinges right next to a bloodied panel.

He frowned and opened his holster…

* * *

><p>Graham was positively shaking now.<p>

There was another sound now; clack-clack-clack, like footsteps, but different. He stared up at the grille, and saw someone tall, his head swiveling left and right. Graham bit down on his hand further, to keep his mouth busy. He didn't want the person to find him; Graham somehow found him hostile.

_Don't make any noise, don't make any noise…_

The figure looked down, and Graham's heart clenched as he walked forward.

_Clack-clack-clack…_

Graham let out a silent sob as the unknown person stopped directly in front of the trapdoor.

_Don't make any noise, don't make any noise…_

The figure bent down…

_Don't make any noise; don't make any noise, DON'T MAKE ANY NOISE!_

The trap door opened. Graham stared; it was too tall and too thin to be a man…

It raised a large revolver, cocked the barrel, and fired.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

**February 9****th****, 2016**

**20:10 P.M.**

Deryn had always known the algae would be disgusting, but her assumptions were wrong; making the stuff in the first place was even worse. Deryn tried not to heave as a truck sized Gastropithecus reared its slime covered body and drew back its skin flaps. Thin strands of sticky liquid tried to hold onto the edges as the slug exposed its white innards. The smell hit them the hardest, a pungent aroma of faeces and rancid biological matter. Whoever designed these slugs must have made sure that their stench would rape the lungs a thousand times over.

"_This_ is cookhouse duty?" said Aleksandar, incredulously. "All that algae, is grown _inside_ those things!"

"Correct," mumbled Deryn, green faced.

"And they want us to get it out?"

"Yep."

The Gastropithecus warbled impatiently, and Deryn sighed, reached a gloved hand into the creature's stomach membrane and started scooping out the algae and dropping it into a bucket. Aleksandar hesitated, but finally relented, reaching inside, and grabbing fistfuls. The algae resembled a cross between pasta and broccoli; it was a horrible pasty cream color, and consisted of one small stem that branched outwards into several tinier ones. Even worse was the mucus that covered it, a horrible gelatinous sheet of slime, which pooled around them. Fortunately, the rubber aprons protected their uniforms from smelling like Satan's shit.

The Gastropitheci grew algae inside them by eating soil and using that soil to grow plant matter in their innards, which were then extracted, cooked, and readied for consumption. Deryn reached further, found the last algae clump, and pulled. As it came free, the slug let out a satisfied gurgling, closed its skin flaps and flopped back down onto the metal floor.

"That," grunted Aleksandar "was disgusting."

"I actually agree with you on that one," grumbled Deryn.

The slug, oblivious, let out a happy burping sound. Aleksandar tried to wipe off the muck on his apron, but it came back an even bigger mess than before. "You know," he said, "I take back what I said earlier."

"Really? Well, so do I."

"I guess that makes us even then. Let's grab a table before we lose our appetites."

Deryn nodded and made to remove her apron when a thick voice called out to them. "Oi! What're you both doing?" said the fat cook who had stepped into the kitchen. He waved a spatula threateningly, and his piggy face was turning red. Aleksandar made to give an explanation, but Deryn cut him off. "We've just finished grabbing the algae, sir. See?"

She indicated the buckets filled with the stuff, but the chef grinned evilly, and said, "Finished, you say? Well in that case, you won't mind harvesting the other forty slugs I've got in the next room!"

Aleksandar paled. "Forty? Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious, sonny."

Deryn couldn't help it. She vomited.

* * *

><p>"Fuck, fuck, fuck, <em>fuck<em>!"

Deryn gnashed her teeth as the last of the algae finally came loose from the steel surface. Her hands were red and raw from rubbing in too much soap, and her hair smelled of cleaning fluids. Her eyes were burning with fumes, and itching with tiredness. After her little puking episode, the cook had made a big fuss about it, and she'd been given extra kitchen duties, namely washing all the cooking utensils, including every single plate, fork and knife used in the mess hall. Aleksandar had gotten off early, the lucky bastard, and when the mess hall filtered out, he'd gone with them, leaving Deryn the only one left. She'd been cleaning ever since.

Deryn sighed with relief as the last dish was cleaned, dried and stacked. She wiped her hands on a ragged dishtowel, and leaned against the counter, closing her eyes for some respite. After such a long day, she needed some rest, and the flickering light bulb seemed to lull her to sleep.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Deryn's eyes opened, and blearily focused on Aleksandar's face. He stood at the door, holding a brown paper bag, and he raised an eyebrow at the huge stack of cutlery on the counter. "You've been busy." Deryn scoffed. "More than you think."

Aleksandar shrugged and closed the door behind him. "I've got some eats for you. I sneaked them off that cook when he wasn't looking, but…ah, what the hell…" Deryn's eyes grew hungry when Aleksandar rummaged around in the bag, and tossed her a sandwich. She caught it expertly, and promptly peeled away the plastic wrap. "Thanks…Aleksandar."

"Alek," he said, "You can just call me Alek."

"Oh, right…thanks Alek."

She gobbled the sandwich in three bites and reached for another one, when she paused. "Aren't you having anything?"Alek, who was massaging his neck, opened his eyes, "Hmm? Oh, no, I don't really feel hungry…"

"You sure?"

"Yeah…"

Deryn shrugged and pulled out another sandwich.

"You know, Lilit told me you were in prison."

"You spoke to Lilit?"

"Yeah, she wanted to know how you were doing in here. Anyway, about this prison thing, how'd you get chucked in there?"

Deryn sighed, and scratched her head. "Usual stuff; armed robbery, drug dealing…look I already told Lilit about this, I don't like to talk about it." Alek shrugged. "Okay," he said, as he pulled out a cigarette package, lit one, and puffed out a small cloud of smoke.

Deryn eyed him up and down. He was thinner than first glance, almost like a toothpick. So thin, in fact, that if he stood at the right angle, he would become invisible altogether. And he definitely hadn't come off as a smoker either; maybe that's why his face was always dark with stubble. He noticed her staring, and pulled out a fresh cigarette.

"You smoke?"

"Err…no…"

He shrugged again. "Suit yourself."

Deryn finished the second sandwich and grabbed the third. "By the way, you didn't tell me how you got here anyway." Alek nodded, sucked in a last drag, tossed the spent cigarette into the trash can, and reached for another.

"Well, I had it pretty easy since I was little. My Mom and Dad were rich folks, see," he said as he reached for his lighter.

Deryn nodded.

"Man, I had everything, LCDs, tuxedoes, the works…then those Locust come climbing out of the ground, and then the shit hits the fan." He took a drag, puffed out another smoke cloud, and sighed. "Dad wasn't very happy about Mom's guts staining the tapestry." He gave a soft throaty chuckle. "By the time, I'd cleared outta there; I think he was still trying to clean out the safe."

"Did he make it out?" asked Deryn, even though she knew it was a stupid question.

"The roof fell in on him, so, no; he didn't make it. Gravity's a bitch sometimes. Anyway, they shipped me off to one of those refugee camps. I lived there like shit, for two years, and then I started piloting."

"You started piloting walkers?" asked Deryn surprised, "Who the barking heck taught you?"

Alek grinned. "You're going to love this. I met this really old guy over there, see, he was a cargo loader at the local warehouse, went by the name of Klopp. We met all the time at an eating house every evening, and we'd taken a liking to each other. So you know what he did? He took me to the nearest warehouse, and taught me the ropes, saunters, gears, maintenance, everything! The guy was a fucking genius, I was actually happy for him when the military boys got wind of him and spirited him off to some lab in the north."

"And then you enlisted?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much it. You know the rest."

There was silence between them as Alek finished his story. Deryn munched the last sandwich, crumpled the bag and lobbed it into the bin. "Well, thanks for the snack…"

Alek smiled, "You needed it anyway. Besides, I don't even like tuna."

Deryn smiled and undid her apron. "We'd better get back to the barracks. I don't want to fall asleep in the middle of training tomorrow."

"I hear you."

Alek tossed his spent cigarette and strode out of the kitchen with Deryn. The two left the cookhouse, and proceeded to the barracks. Alek turned right towards Barrack 3. "Well, see you in the morning," he said, raising a hand in farewell.

"Yeah, you too."

Alek just smiled and went on his way. Deryn yawned and headed for Barrack 6, when she stopped in her tracks, smiled, turned, and called, "Hey, Alek!"

He swiveled around, eyebrow raised.

"Smoking kills!"

Alek just laughed.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**February 10****th****, 2016**

**07:40 A.M.**

Deryn, surprisingly, didn't find the algae so bad the next morning, considering where it came from; in fact she ate it as if she was eating a salad on a nice Sunday morning. Lilit noted her behavior, and peeked above her walker magazine, eyebrows furrowed. "Something's different about you today…" she said, suspiciously. "Oh, really?" queried Deryn, through a mouthful of algae, not exactly giving her complete attention to Lilit. "Yeah," she said, "You're happier than usual…it's almost as if you…"

But then, her voice trailed off, and a look of shocking realization appeared on her face, followed by a toothy grin. Deryn looked at her funny. "What? What is it?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," she tittered. Deryn raised a wary eyebrow, and carried on eating. "By the way…" said Lilit, who was still beaming like a madman, "How was cookhouse duty with Aleksandar last night?" Deryn looked at her anew, in mid chew. "It was fine, I guess. Oh, and he likes to be called 'Alek'. Just so you know."

"Ah, so you're using nicknames now, eh?"

"Well, yeah…I suppose so. Why're you so interested all of a sudden?"

"Oh, just curious," said Lilit, burying herself in her magazine again. Deryn narrowed her eyes, and took her last few bites. That was when Newkirk arrived at their table, yawning. "Didn't sleep well?" asked Deryn. "No," grumbled the medic, as he pulled up a chair, "Some daft sack of clart decided it was a good idea to go off playing with live ammunition last night. I was picking shrapnel out of his backside for hours…"

"Ouch, I almost feel sorry for him."

"That's good… because I don't."

Deryn laughed. "Well, so much for the doctor's bedside manner, eh?"

Newkirk turned to look at Deryn, surprised at her burst of humor. "Uhh…right…yeah…"

"Did you get any leads on Maria?" asked Lilit, putting down her magazine. Newkirk sighed, "No, nothing, absolutely nothing…"

"She'll turn up, Kirk, I know she will…"

"It's 'Newkirk'! But thanks anyway…"

* * *

><p>"You see that?" said Bryce, smiling as he gestured with an armored hand, towards the metallic expanse of the Blockade, a gargantuan stretch of impenetrable metal wall. The sun was rising behind the structure, the light filtering through the grey clouds, producing a halo like effect. It was stunning, especially from their vantage point on the guard tower.<p>

Larry smiled. "Yeah, there's something special effects can't do, huh?"

The Blockade was what kept humanity safe from the Locust. On the other side of the wall, was Locust territory, pilfered from COG nations during E-Day. Behind that wall, was a living Hell. If it hadn't been for the Blockade, Sera would have been overrun a long time ago. There were rumors, that if you went near the Blockade at night, you could hear them, sniffing for your blood.

"I'm just glad they didn't put a cat flap on that damn thing," chuckled Bryce, as he lit cigar.

"A cat flap? Why the hell would they put a cat flap on the Blockade?"

Bryce thought for a minute and said, "So they can take a dump."

Larry shook his head. "I don't even know how I'm friends with you, man. That wasn't even a joke."

"Relax," chortled Bryce, "There's nothing alive that can tear through that thing. You know those Locust types, all muscle and digestive tract. Can't even string two sentences together for shit."

"You do have a point…"

"See, I told you!"

I mean the only way to take down that thing, would be by putting explosives in all the weak spots, right?"

"Yep."

"And we all know the Locust aren't really patient for that sort of thing, right?"

"Yep."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Bryce chortled again, the cigar smoke making swirling patterns in the air.

"But seriously, just as a hypothetical question, say that they took down that thing; what would you do?"

Bryce thought for a moment. "Run for the hills."

* * *

><p>"Good morning, people!" said Alek. Deryn smiled and scooted her chair to the side, as Alek set his tray onto the table. Lilit gave a small wave in greeting, too engrossed on an interesting article on knee joint suspensions. "We met," she said, and Alek nodded, pulling up a chair. "Newkirk, this is Alek," said Deryn, "Alek, this is Newkirk."<p>

"Nice to meet you," said Alek. "Pleasure," said Newkirk, as they awkwardly shook hands. "Hey, were you the guy who was stitching up the bullet holes in that guy's ass last night?" Newkirk coughed uneasily. "Yes."

"We could hear that guy screaming all the way to our barracks," laughed Alek. "Yes," said the medic, sarcastically "I'm glad my work has become a hit."

Alek chuckled a little more and dug in eagerly. Lilit peeked at him over her magazine and Newkirk's eyes switched between Deryn and Alek. Cautiously, he nudged Lilit, and gave her an 'Are-you-thinking-what-I'm-thinking?' look. Lilit nodded softly. "I heard we're starting rifle training today," said Alek, "Rumor or fact?"

"Definitely fact," said Newkirk, "We've only gone through physical training, so far. I think it's about time they taught us how to shoot."

"I actually prefer walkers," grumbled Lilit, "Foot soldiers are too easy to pick off, and besides its convenient."

"Pffft…Clankers…," said Deryn, "Who needs some giant bucket on legs when there's a Hellephant covering you?"

"That's not how we do things back home," laughed Alek, "Back in Kashkur, I …"

"Wait!" exclaimed Newkirk, startling everyone. He shot up from his chair like a rattlesnake on steroids, and his seat clanged to the floor. Everyone looked at him; there was a wild look in his eyes, as he leaned towards Alek. "Did you just say Kashkur!"

"Uhh…Yes…but what does that have to with-

"Oh, thank God! Listen, there's someone I need to find, my sister…" He rifled through his pockets and produced the Polaroid. Deryn winced slightly. "Is there any chance," he said "_Any_ chance at all, that you've seen this girl?"

Lilit sighed. "Newkirk, you've just met him and-

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on!" said Alek, staring at the picture, "I think I can help this guy…"

Newkirk's face brightened expectantly. "You've seen her? Where? Tell me, please!" Alek frowned, concentrating hard. "It's a little hazy, but I think I remember a girl a lot like that, when me and some other recruits unloaded at the docks…Yeah, she's definitely the one…"

"She was at the docks! Did you see where she went?"

"Wait…it's a little fuzzy, but…Yeah, I remember, she got on to this barge, I think it was called the _Veronique Delmar_, although I'm not sure…there's still a lot of boats out there…"Newkirk let out a cry of elation. "Oh, man I got a lead, finally! Thank you so much, man!"

"Well, it was kind of easy, I mean it's hard not to notice attractive women when…Hey! Don't hug me; it's gay, get off!"

"Sorry…It's just that…well, I thought I wouldn't see my sister again, that's all…"Alek sighed, still slightly irritated. "Okay, fine, just…just don't pounce on me like that, okay?"

Deryn smiled as Newkirk and Alek talked. Lilit was patting Newkirk on the back. "See, I told you she'd turn up somewhere!"

"Yes, you did and you were right! This is the best day of my life!"

Newkirk let out an elated breath, and sat back down, still smiling. Alek had gone back to his breakfast, and Deryn looked at the view out the window. Outside, she could see the upper portion of the Blockade, poking out over the barrack walls. It was a colossal symbol of mankind's safety from the Locust. She'd read the specs from old newspapers; it also had subterranean electro-shock proximity mines installed a year ago, so any Locust who tried digging through that would be fried to a crisp. Deryn eyes raked across the barrier. One day, the COG would tear down that barrier, and retake everything the Locust had pillaged. And when that was done, they would prepare a fresh assault, destroying the Locust where they lived. If they could find it, of course...

That was when the explosion sounded, not very loud, but loud enough to make your ears ring, and a piece of the observable Blockade fell away, followed by another and another…

Deryn's eyes widened, as every soldier in the mess hall searched for the source of the noise. Lilit looked up from her magazine, a startled expression on her face. "What the hell was that!"

Newkirk swallowed, "Grenadiers?"

"No, that's too loud to be a bunch of grenadiers practicing…,"said Alek, his brow furrowed.

"Guys," said Deryn, her voice shaking "The Blockade…"

Alek turned to see what Deryn was looking at and swore. "Motherfuck…"Lilit dropped her magazine, and Newkirk was backing away reflexively. "No way, that could have happened. Absolutely no way…"

Then, the mess hall doors were thrown open, and a soldier stood there, shaking uncontrollably, rifle in hand. At once, he opened his mouth and voiced everyone's worst fear.

"Locust!" he yelled "Locust at the Blockade!"


End file.
